


The Five Times Kira Gets Kidnapped And The One Time Malia Does

by TheMipstaz



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: 5+1 Things, Brief Non-Con, Established Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Established Relationship, F/F, Fluff and Angst, Kidnapping, M/M, Mermaids, Prom, Protective Derek, Protective Malia, Wyverns, feral malia, kira feels unloved, malia hates shopping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-09
Updated: 2015-09-09
Packaged: 2018-04-19 23:31:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,802
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4765052
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheMipstaz/pseuds/TheMipstaz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The first time Kira gets kidnapped in the midst of their supernatural shenanigans—“Stiles, stop calling them that. This is serious.” “C’mon, Scotty, stop sucking the fun out of life.”—Malia is inconsolable.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Five Times Kira Gets Kidnapped And The One Time Malia Does

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted [here](http://nevergooutofstiles.tumblr.com/post/128727563235/5-times-kira-gets-kidnapped-1-time-malia-does).

**I.**

The first time Kira gets kidnapped in the midst of their supernatural shenanigans—“Stiles, stop calling them that. This is serious.” “C’mon, Scotty, stop sucking the fun out of life.”—Malia is inconsolable. Her eyes are blazing blue and she can’t force away the fangs crowding her maw no matter how hard she tries. She snarls when anyone gets too close to her and howls like a wolf when she smells her girlfriend’s blood on the ground. No one can control her, and Liam almost loses an ear trying. Then her claws actually draw blood from Stiles when he’s just a split second too late dodging her swipe.

Derek’s roar shakes all the trees in the preserve to their roots.

They’ve been trying to avoid hurting her, but all that goes out the window once Stiles is flailing backwards with blood soaking the sleeve of his jacket. Derek has her pinned down in about two seconds flat, clawed fingers digging deep into the flesh of her arms. He holds her fast and growls in her face until she relents, panting. Her wild blue eyes still don’t show a sign of true human cognizance or recognition, but Derek figures it’s good enough for now.

She ends up chained in the reinforced concrete basement of Derek’s loft because they don’t have time to take her all the way to Lydia’s beach house. The others can’t afford a wildcard like her when they go charging into the witches’ lair to rescue Kira. Scott shoots her an apologetic look, which she completely ignores in favor of straining at her chains and growling low in her throat. She snuffles the air and whines pathetically when she can’t smell Kira.

“We’ll get her back,” Liam promises solemnly. Just because he’s outgrown his own wolf-proof restraints doesn’t mean he’s forgotten what it’s like. He winces with sympathy as the metal cuffs bite into Malia’s skin, scraping it raw even with the soft cloth padding.

Hayden twines their fingers together, squeezing reassuringly.

* * *

Kira’s exhausted by the time the last witch has fled, and her foxfire is flickering weakly inside her. Who knew lightning kitsune foxfire could be used as some kind of insane power boost for hedgewitches? But there’s no time to waste—there’s hardly time to change out of her torn and bloodied clothes—because Malia needs her.

“She’s been out of her mind since you disappeared,” pants Lydia as they hurry to Scott’s waiting motorcycle. If Kira didn’t feel like she was about to keel over at any given moment, she’d spare a moment to admire how fast Lydia can walk over the uneven ground in four inch heels.

“Three days?” Kira croaks, horrified. Her throat is dryer than Stiles and Peter’s wits combined, but she pushes it aside in favor of her chest aching for Malia.

Lydia grimaces as Scott comes into view, sunlight gleaming off his sleek helmet. He revs the engine.

* * *

Kira’s too weak to actually haul open the heavy steel door that guards the basement, but that doesn’t stop her from desperately scrabbling at it. Then Derek gently pushes her aside to slide it open, and she’s haphazardly staggering down the smooth stone steps as soon as there’s a gap big enough to squeeze through.

“Malia!” she cries, blindly tripping down the stairs and nearly braining herself on the way down before Derek is at her side to guide her down. “Malia, where are—”

She’s cut off by a familiar howl and the metallic clank of chains being pulled taut. The werecoyote is struggling against her bonds, nostrils flaring. The electric spark of Kira’s scent has Malia howling. Kira sobs with relief, flinging herself at Malia, whose claws are gone as she catches the girl in her arms. Curling protectively over Kira’s shaking frame, Malia huddles in the corner of the basement and presses her cold nose to Kira’s neck to inhale the familiar scent of love and comfort. Her lips press desperate kisses to every part of Kira she can reach: the corner of her lips, her cheeks, her forehead, her neck. Her hands roam fastidiously, raking down Kira’s sides and arms.

“Mine,” Malia whispers savagely. “Kira.  _Mine_.”

Initial distress mollified, their fingers are laced tightly together as Malia rests her chin comfortingly on Kira’s head. She growls at the bits of dried blood Kira didn’t have time to wash off and whimpers at the red and raw lacerations on her wrists where the witches had tried to drain Kira’s power through her blood.

“I’m okay,” Kira whispers fiercely, clinging to her girlfriend. “We’re okay.” She doesn’t care about the days’ old sweat matting Malia’s hair or the fine tremors wracking Malia’s hands. She just wants to stay in Malia’s arms, somewhere she wasn’t sure she’d ever find herself again.

Of course, the pack comes for them eventually. After giving Malia a couple hours to calm down, Derek cautiously creeps down the steps towards the two of them. Malia still growls warily, even though her rational mind reminds her that Derek is pack and can be trusted. But Kira, eyes sleepily blinking open, cuffs her reprimandingly and chastises, “Stop it.”

Malia lowers her hackles obediently, if a bit grudgingly.

“C’mon,” Derek nods toward the door. “Let’s go get you two cleaned up.”

Reluctantly, Malia lets herself be dragged towards the waiting hot shower. Kira doesn’t let go of her hand once.

**II.**

The second time it happens, Malia is a little bit more in control. Their relationship is less tenuous, she’s less on edge, but Malia still has to fight for every second her claws are retracted and her teeth are blunt.

This time, the pack takes Malia to face the asshole hunters that nabbed Kira and Hayden. She and Liam are both itching to sink their fangs into something soft and preferably hunter-shaped. Meanwhile, Stiles is bitching about how these hunters clearly suck at their job because neither of their hostages are werewolves and one of them is actually human.

What it turns out the hunters  _don’t_  suck at is shooting shit because Malia takes two arrows, one to her shoulder and one to her side, before she manages to catch one of the men between her claws. Scott has to physically drag her off the man before she rips his throat out. “We don’t kill,” he says firmly, eyes glowing coals.

Malia snaps her teeth at him irritably, but doesn’t argue. Behind Scott’s back, Liam is giving her a thumbs up before Derek shoots him a withering look. Malia doesn’t care, not while Kira is still missing. Her blood is singing and her senses tingling.

They find the girls in an underground bunker not too far off. They’re both covered in dirt and a little worse for wear, but okay overall. While Liam is doing that thing where he’s not sure if he’s allowed to outwardly show he cares for Hayden and Hayden pretends she hates Liam, Malia is instantly at Kira’s side. She sniffs her twice for good measure and grumbles at the new bruises blossoming on Kira’s fair skin. She frowns unhappily at them, glad that Kira can’t hear the anxious racing of her heart. “Don’t do that again,” she grumps, hugging Kira close to her.

“Ow,” Kira makes a face, but holds Malia just as close. She rubs their cheeks together in the way she knows Malia likes, and Malia huffs in an attempt to still seem disgruntled even though her coyote is practically purring. Kira smiles knowingly. “I’ll try my best.”

**III.**

“Your best isn’t good enough,” Malia snaps in annoyance the third time she has to rescue her ridiculously-prone-to-getting-abducted girlfriend. She and Kira are sprinting through the woods, dodging trees and winding through the leafy undergrowth. Malia’s not going half as fast as she could be, but she’s not about to leave Kira behind. Instead, she anxiously circles Kira, sometimes running ahead to see if she can see the others before doubling back to make sure Kira’s keeping up. Her eyes flit worriedly behind them, ears straining to hear the sound of their pursuer trampling foliage behind them.

Kira’s chest is heaving, hair streaming behind her and clinging to her sweaty face, but she’s slowing down. Malia fretfully nudges her forward, impatiently muttering, “C’mon, c’mon. Faster.”

Legs and lungs burning, Kira wheezes, “I am, I am.”

A deafening shriek sounds behind them, grating on Malia’s ears and the hair on the back of her neck stands up. Her coyote is urging her to leave this weaker being behind and save herself, but Malia furiously snarls at herself, disgusted at the very thought.

Then, two things happen at once: Kira goes down with a sharp cry, pain souring her scent, and the trees only a couple dozen meters behind them burst into billowing green flames. Malia skids, claws digging into the loamy soil as she fumbles to a stop, just as a huge two-legged, scaly, winged monster plows through the wall of emerald fire. The wyvern lets out another screech as it flaps its great leather wings and hurtles straight toward Kira.

Malia sees red, answering the dragon’s cry with a howl of her own. Electricity crackles in the air as she launches herself between the beast and Kira, whose eyes are wide as she crawls further from the fire licking its way toward her. Malia circumspectly stares the wyvern down, peripherally aware of Kira slowly making her escape. She just has to distract it long enough for the pack to get here or Kira to get away safely.

The wyvern tilts its head at her curiously, pus yellow eyes blinking slowly. Its forked tongue flickers out of its mouth, giving Malia a brief glimpse of its razor sharp teeth. The dragonfire is unbearably hot, sweat soaking her shirt, but Malia stands her ground even though her knees are quaking.

“Malia,” Kira coughs, eyes watering at the smoke. “Malia, what are you doing? Run! Get out of here and get Scott!”

“I’m not leaving you,” Malia snarls, taking a couple steps back to edge her way toward Kira. Maybe she can scoop her up and run. “I’m not letting someone I love die because of me again.” Her heart hammers in her chest, but she ignores the stinging in her eyes and the crackling of fire in her ears. “Not again.”

Malia has a split second in which she realizes what the wyvern is doing before it does it. As it fills its lungs with air, Malia’s eyes widen and she whirls around to tackle Kira to the side just as the monster lets loose another cloud of bright green fire where they had been.

Bracing herself on her hands and knees over Kira, Malia lets out a wail as the fire singes and blisters her back. Exhausted, she collapses onto Kira, sweaty skin sticking together uncomfortably and smearing soot everywhere. She groans as she feels the burned skin slowly tingle and itch as it heals itself.

“Malia?” Kira shakes her, wiping sweat from her eyes. “Malia!” Tears are blurring her vision, and they feel like they’re boiling as they roll down her cheeks. Kira pulls the unconscious werecoyote into her lap as the wyvern stalks closer, tail whipping back and forth as it hisses. It seems to be grinning maliciously and Kira shivers.

She hates it with every every fiber of her being, is practically vibrating with unrestrained rage. Her skin starts to glow and fizzle, searing orange aura becoming visible as her fox surges to the surface. Kira can feel the power lighting up her eyes as fire-hot air sputters to life with electricity. The air grows heavy, like a thunder cloud about to open its belly and release a downpour of lightning and rain.

The wyvern seems to realize its danger at the last second because it emits a terrified scream before Kira’s foxfire explodes outward in a deadly shockwave of power. The ground shudders, land cracking with the force of it. The green fire slowly fades away as the wyvern’s huge body, cold and lifeless, collapses onto the ground—the magic gone.

Kira’s left panting over Malia’s motionless body, in the middle of a blackened crater of cracked earth and burnt vegetation. She feels empty, bereft, as her drained aura retreats back inside her. She sighs, eyelids heavy. Above her, the sky has turned grey and cloudy. A fine drizzle starts to drip onto Kira’s skin before it turns downright torrential.

And that’s how the pack finds her, curled around Malia being drenched by a freak summer storm and surrounded by destruction.

Liam looks awed by the wreckage: scorched trees, torn up earth, the wyvern corpse that’s quickly turning to nothing but bones as though the rain is acid eating it up. Even Stiles is grappling for words. Finally, he asks quietly, “Did Kira do all this?”

No one wants to say it, but there’s clearly no other answer.

Mason just nods his head sagely and says, “Intense.”

**IV.**

“Mermaids,” Malia repeats in a ‘you’re shitting me, right?’ tone. “She was taken by mermaids.” It’s not even a question. That’s how much inflection she’s not putting into her voice. It must be a genetic thing, Stiles figures as he tries not to be weirded out by how much she’s reminding him of Derek.

“Well,  _technically_ ,” Stiles evades, “but there wasn’t any actual force. They just sort of lightly dragged her away and you know how Kira’s too polite to say anything. So does it actually count as kidnapping if—”

“Is she with the damn mermaids or not, Stiles?” Malia growls impatiently. The sooner Stiles stops tripping over his tongue, the sooner Malia can retrieve her wayward girlfriend. This was  _not_  how she had wanted to spend her summer break from the living hell that is high school. If she had a nickel for every time Kira got into trouble, she’d need Lydia to count it all.

“Yes. Jeez, no need to bite my head off.”

“Don’t give me ideas,” growls Malia darkly, stomping off to her car. Luckily, the beach is only about a 15 minute drive away. Unluckily for the two pedestrians she almost runs over and the red light she speeds through, Malia makes it in 10.

Not that Malia has anything personal against the beach—how could she hate something that gets Kira to strip down to her bikini?—but she’s never been particularly fond of it. Coyotes aren’t exactly naturally aquatic creatures and she never learned how to swim, something Scott always huffs at whenever he goes surfing. She prefers to watch from the safety of the sand, especially when Kira agrees to sunbathe with her.

Now, Malia makes a resentful face at the deceitfully innocent-looking sand as she pulls crookedly into a parking space. She makes sure no one’s around to watch her childishly kick a couple dunes with her bare feet in a fit of pique.

All Malia wants is to get through one month without Kira getting snatched right under Malia’s nose by the bad guys so they can cuddle and do cute coupley shit that Malia will pretend to complain about even though she’s secretly thrilled someone as beautiful as Kira  _wants_  to do those things with her. Is that so much to ask?

Eyes scanning the horizon, Malia frowns when all she sees is the smooth, shimmery expanse of the ocean. And maybe a pod of dolphins a mile or so out if she squints. But no mermaids or Kira.

Then her ears perk up as she hears murmured voices and a feminine giggle that sounds suspiciously like her girlfriend. Malia mutters obscenities under her breath that she learned from that one time Derek caught Stiles trying to smuggle a litter of kittens into the loft. To make a long story short, there had been a lot of impressively creative swears until Stiles had convinced Derek to have ‘I’m pissed but I still like you anyway’ sex with him. Malia hadn’t particularly cared—being around Stiles and Derek pretty much meant smelling constant arousal anyways—and she had her noise-cancelling headphones on, but Scott had yanked her out of the loft with a betrayed, “Stiles, you promised you wouldn’t sexile me anymore!”

There’s a small cove off near one end of the shore, laced with tidepools, and that’s where Malia finds Kira squirming uncomfortably on a big grey rock while half a dozen smarmy-looking mermaids get all up in her personal space bubble.

“Wow, you’re really pretty,” one of the mermaids coos, batting her lashes as she runs a cold blue hand up Kira’s leg.

“Uh, thanks,” chuckles Kira nervously, flicking the wandering hand away and hugging her knees to her chest. “Remember how I said I’m in a very happy and committed relationship, like, five seconds ago?”

 _Of fucking course_ , Malia rolls her eyes so hard. Not only does Kira get taken by mermaids, but they’re also lesbian mermaids. Or bi. Or pan. Lydia has been teaching her about the sexuality spectrum lately, but that’s not the point. The point is that now Malia has to save her too-attractive-for-her-own-good girlfriend. She huffs and starts scrambling over the tide-worn boulders.

“Oh, boys are so fickle,” purrs another one of the slimy, scaly creatures from Kira’s other side. She runs her clawed, webbed hands through Kira’s hair and grins with a mouthful of shark’s teeth. “Girls are so much better.”

“Yeah,” puffs Malia, hauling herself the last way up and splashing down into the shallow cove, “then I guess it’s good she’s already got a girlfriend.”

“Malia!” Kira’s megawatt smile warms something in Malia’s chest every time, even as they’re surrounded by a bunch of probably deadly mermaids with seaweed green hair and too many teeth.

And then that warmth ignites into an incendiary rage at the possessive arm one of the fish freaks drapes around Kira’s shoulders. Malia’s ice blue eyes narrow into dangerous slits, lip curled back and claws out with a neat  _schnik_.

“Can you, um, please stop?” Kira tries to wriggle away, face scrunched as she inches away.

But the mermaid doesn’t budge, only leers toward Kira, who gags at the overwhelming stench of squid guts and salt. “Or what, pretty fox? Gonna do something bad to me?”

Malia snarls, low in her throat. But as she takes a step towards them, the the other mermaids snake towards her, slippery as fish even in the shallows. They’ve got her on her knees, arms pinned behind her back, before Malia can so much as blink.

“Don’t hurt her!” cries Kira, eyes wide and lip trembling. “Please. Or you’ll regret it.”

The head mermaid chuckles, high and raspy. “Uh huh, little fox. As pretty as you are when you beg,” she turns towards her underlings, “kill the coyo—”

But she never gets to finish her command because Kira’s katana is suddenly protruding from her chest. The mermaid, wide-eyed and choking on the blood dribbling from her mouth, lets out a horrible wet sound before her eyes roll back and she collapses as Kira yanks her blade out. Her irises flash orange and the blue mermaid blood trickles down the length of her sword.

The other mermaids shriek and hiss at Kira, outraged but obviously slightly afraid. Malia winces as their barbed claws dig deeper into her skin, fearfully awaiting the moment they cut across her throat.

“Let her go,” Kira says, looking surprisingly calm for someone with blood staining her clothes, “and no one gets hurt.”

“Not likely, fox,” spits one of the mermaids. “Not after you killed our queen.”

“I’m not just a fox.” Kira’s gleaming katana starts to fizzle and spark with lightning, and Malia’s eyes widen in stark realization. “I’m a kitsune.”

While the mermaids’ are distracted by the flare of electricity crackling in the air, Malia rips herself free of their grip and scrabbles up on top of a dry rock just as Kira plunges her blade into the water.

The mermaids scream as lightning courses through their veins and fries their skin, the reek of burning flesh filling the air. Kira lifts her sword from the water and glares at the mermaids, who whimper weakly as they flee toward the ocean. They cast one last fearful glance over their shoulders before vanishing beneath the surface.

Clipping her sword back around her waist like the inconspicuous belt it pretends to be, Kira gives Malia radiant smile and a dorky wave. “Hey, let’s go home.” A smear of blood is still on her cheek.

Although somewhat dazed, Malia has never been more turned on or in love in her life.

**V.**

Malia quickly decides that whoever said that senior year was the best year of high school is a fucking liar. It’s only her second week and she’s already got a C in two classes. Lydia is just impressed at this point by how fast her grades drop, but still dutifully tutors Malia after school.

By the third week, Malia has a D in Calc and detention for slamming a guy against his locker and threatening to rip his balls off. In her defense, the douchebag had snickered something under his breath about Kira having a B minus in English even though she was Asian. Malia might be a little slow at relearning human social cues, but even she could hear the malicious derision in the boy’s tone.

So, naturally, Malia’s about halfway through her 3 hour long afterschool detention when her phone buzzes in her pocket with a  _Have you seen Kira?_  from Scott.

Sneaking a quick glance to make sure Mr. Harris—he wasn’t even the teacher who’d given her the detention; did he volunteer for this or something?—is too absorbed in the book he’s reading to notice anything, Malia hurriedly types back.  _No. I’m in detention with Harris, remember?_  After a moment’s thought, she adds,  _Is she studying with Lydia?_  Malia fidgets in her seat, anxiously tapping her nails on the desk. Harris shoots her a cross look, so Malia just drums them louder until he scowls and goes back to ignoring her.

Malia’s practically vibrating out of her skin by the time Scott gets back to her. Her stomach swoops with worry at his response of  _No. Stay put, we’ll find her._

“Fuck this,” she growls, standing up so suddenly her chair scrapes backwards against the floor.

“Hey,” Harris says sharply, setting down his book, “where do you think you’re going?”

Malia’s already yanking open the door as she retorts over her shoulder, “To save my stupid girlfriend.”

“You can’t just leave!” splutters Mr. Harris, sticking his head out of the doorway to watch in disbelief as Malia leaves. “I’ll double your detention!”

By the time everything is said and done, Malia actually gets three times her original sentence and a strict talking to from the principal. Mr. Tate is less than happy about having to come down to the school again in as many days.

But she also managed to rescue Kira from the rogue omega wolf that had been hiding out in the woods. Apparently it had somehow gotten into its head that Kira was its way into the pack. To Malia, it makes zero sense. But then Derek theorizes offhandedly that it’s probably because Kira smells so much like Malia; their scents are so deeply entwined it’s hard to tell them apart sometimes.

At the confused face of Kira—and Malia, Stiles, Scott, Mason, Hayden, and Liam—Lydia elaborates, “She smells like a Hale. The wolf probably thought Kira was related to Derek and would give her an in.”

As everyone nods in understanding, Kira subtly sniffs herself. “Do I really?”

“Yeah, you guys sort of always reek of each other,” Liam confesses with a shrug.

Embarrassed, Kira elbows Malia and hisses, “Why didn’t you say anything?”

Malia tries to make her eyes as wide and innocent as possible, but she can’t help the pleased smile she hides into the top of Kira’s head as she presses ostentiously apologetic kisses behind her girlfriend’s ear.

“You sneaky little…” Kira huffs fondly even as she leans back into Malia’s embrace.

**+I.**

“Kira?”

“Uh,” Kira’s stomach somersaults with nerves. She lowered the hand that had been knocking on the front door, curling it into a fist by her side. This was a terrible idea. “Hi, sheriff Stilinski. Do you, er, have a minute?”

“Who’s at the—oh!” Melissa McCall blinked in surprise to see Kira, whose deer-in-the-headlights look only got worse, standing there. “Hi, Kira. How can we help you?”

Kira takes a split second to reassure herself that she’s at the correct house before her face goes bright red. She knew the pack was always joking about Melissa and the sheriff, but she’d always assumed they were always just that: jokes. She frantically wonders if Scott and Stiles know their parents have clandestine get togethers like this.

“Kira,” prompts the sheriff patiently, used to the way she can be as scatterbrained as his son sometimes.

“Oh, right,” she squeaks out finally, “is this a bad time? I could totally come back later. Or never. Yeah, never sounds good. I’ll just go now.”

“ _Kira_ ,” repeats the sheriff again, firmer this time.

Giving in, Kira says in a quiet voice, “I just… wanted to talk to someone who would understand.”

Melissa’s eyes soften. “Come in, honey.”

Kira twiddles with the hem of her skirt as the sheriff sits on the couch across from her and Melissa bustles around. When she finally sits next to the sheriff, she hands Kira a cup of steaming tea with a kind smile.

“Thank you,” Kira smiles, knot in her stomach loosening.

“So what’s up, kiddo?” asks the sheriff, stretching his arm over Melissa’s shoulders.

Kira hides her smile in her drink before responding, “Um, so prom’s coming up and I… I’m not sure what to do.”

“Did you and Malia break up?” the sheriff inquires in confusion.

“What, no!” Kira assures him quickly. “No, of course not. It’s just, my parents can be a bit…” she trails off helplessly, looking to Melissa for help.

“Stubborn?” Melissa offers, remembering how adamant Noshiko had been about foxes and wolves not getting along when Kira and Scott had been dating. It was like she had forgotten that their kids were humans first and supernatural creatures second. No clashing spirit animals were about to tear apart those two, not until the teens themselves decided to split it off.

“Something like that,” Kira says weakly. “They’re a little conservative, I guess. I mean, Mom wasn’t exactly jumping for joy when I was dating Scott. Can you imagine her if I take Malia to prom?”

“Your parents don’t know you two are together?” Melissa’s surprised seeing how close Kira is with her folks.

“Well,” Kira hedges, “I mean, I’ve brought Malia over for dinner and stuff, but I’ve never outright _said_  anything. Dad seems to get it, and he’s alright, if a little scared by Malia’s intense love for venison. But Mom would rather stick her head in the sand than admit her only daughter is… isn’t normal.”

Melissa’s heart breaks just a little for Kira and she instantly reaches out to place a comforting hand over where Kira’s fingers tremble against her tea cup. “You are normal,” she says, before smiling wryly. “Well, as normal as a magical kitsune can be. But your sexuality is nothing to be ashamed of or hide, Kira. It’s who you are as much as your fox is. Even if your mom doesn’t approve, the rest of us are here for you.”

The sheriff nods his agreement. “If you want to take Malia to prom, then we’ve got your back. I know it’s going to be scary; you should’ve seen Stiles the first time he brought Derek to me as his official boyfriend. And that was after I’d already figured it out and given him the ‘I”ll love you no matter what’ speech.”

“Kira, sweetheart, are you okay?” Melissa’s face is concerned as she sees the wet gleam to Kira’s eyes.

“Yeah,” sniffles Kira, wiping at her welling tears in mortification. “Just, nobody’s ever said those things to me before.”

Melissa’s heart breaks entirely at that. She’s up and around the coffee table to pull Kira into a tight hug before she can even think. “Oh, honey.” She had given Scott the ‘it’s okay to be queer’ talk years ago, so to see Kira at 18 years old crying over being told she would be accepted no matter what is devastating.  

“If you and Malia want to go to prom together,” the sheriff says, face compassionate as he watches Kira and Melissa, “I say go for it. You only get one senior year. Don’t waste it.”

“Thank you,” hiccups Kira with a watery smile.

* * *

By the fifth time Kira asks someone where Malia is, she starts to get worried. Didn’t Stiles say something about a family of trolls moving into the preserve recently? Do trolls like to carry off werecoyotes and eat them? Or was that ogres? Maybe she should go ask Lydia if she can get a copy of the bestiary.

“Hey, Lydia, do you know where Malia is?”  

“No, why?”

“We had a date like an hour ago, but she didn’t show and I can’t find her anywhere. No one else seems to know where she is either. Should I be worried?”

“She’s probably just off chasing bunnies or something,” Lydia replies breezily. “She’ll be fine.”

“Considering we just had to chase an  _afanc_  from from the river in the preserve, like, a week ago, I thought you’d be more concerned about a missing packmate,” Kira points out, trying to keep the irritation out of her voice. But she’s had a long day—first, failing yet another English quiz then forgetting to bring a change of clothes so she was late to lacrosse practice—so Kira ends the call with a vindictive stab of her finger. She lets out a frustrated sigh before climbing into her car to head home.

Except, when she gets there, the house is empty. Heartbeat skyrocketing, Kira calls out, “Mom? Dad?” Nothing. Panic setting in for real now, Kira drops her backpack to the floor and tears through the rooms, yelling for her parents.

The house answers with silence.

“Oh my God,” Kira mutters under her breath, whipping out her phone and speed dialling Scott even as she continues to double check upstairs. “Oh my God, Scott, my parents are gone. Scott, what should I do? Can you—”

“Kira,” Scott interrupts, sounding utterly calm. “Come outside.”

Kira jolts to a halt in disbelief. “My parents are missing. What are you talking about?”

“Trust me,” pleads Scott and he sounds almost giddy. “Just step outside the front door right now.”

Kira’s hand is already on the doorknob and she frowns when she swears she can hear Scott’s voice nearby, not just through the phone.

“What on earth,” she mutters as she turns the deadbolt and opens the door. Only to drop her phone and her jaw because standing outside on the front lawn are not only Malia and her parents, but the whole pack. Liam, Hayden, and Mason all have their phones out filming while Scott grins madly at her from where his own phone is still pressed against his ear and his free hand is holding one corner of a huge poster paper that has a crude sketch of a stag on it and “My dear, wanna go to prom with me?” printed in large block letters. Stiles is hanging onto the opposite end smiling hard enough to split his face in two.

Kira claps her hands over her mouth as she sees Malia standing in the middle, sheepishly offering a bouquet of flowers. “So,” she says, voice gruff with obvious self-consciousness, “will you—”

She can’t even finish the sentence before Kira is throwing herself at Malia, who barely manages not to drop the flowers. “Yes,” Kira whispers into her neck as Malia’s arms naturally circle her waist. “Yes, God, yes. I was thinking about asking you but…” Kira peers over Malia’s shoulder at her parents, who are looking on with proud, happy expressions. “Mom?”

Noshiko is far from ecstatic, but the disgust and disappointment Kira had been expecting is missing from her expression. “Kira,” she says, “we’ve never wanted anything except for you to be happy. And if this is your happiness…” She gestures to Malia and the poster and the pack.

“It is,” whispers Kira fiercely.

“Then you have our blessing,” finishes Noshiko sincerely. Her eyes drift to Malia and Kira almost pinches herself because is that  _fondness_  in her mother’s gaze? “I suppose you could have chosen worse.”

Ken winks at Kira, who just wants to bask in this moment forever. It feels like everything in her life is slowly coming together.

* * *

Three weeks later, after they’ve already had cliché post-prom sex and Kira’s come three times, the two of them are lazily tangled together in the scratchy sheets of the hotel Stiles had cajoled Derek into buying for them as a graduation present.

Kira’s idly tracing letters onto the skin of Malia’s arm where it’s wrapped around her from behind—Malia likes to be the big spoon—and Malia’s halfheartedly guessing what Kira’s writing. In reality, though, she’s more concerned with sucking a massive hickey onto the side of Kira’s neck. But Kira doesn’t really care as she writes ‘I love you’ over and over onto her girlfriend’s skin.

“Hey,” Kira mumbles sleepily, nestling back into the warm curve of Malia’s body.

Malia grunts.

“Where did you go the day you asked me to prom?” Kira stifles a yawn into her pillow. “When you missed our coffee date.”

Malia knows Kira can feel her stupid smile against Kira’s neck, but she doesn’t care. Malia loves remembering that day, the way Kira had tears in her eyes and smelled so happy and even laughed at the stupid pun Stiles made her put on the poster.

Then she remembers what had happened a couple hours prior to that and makes a face. “Your parents kidnapped me to take me dress shopping,” she says sourly, shuddering at the memory. “They wanted mine to complement yours or something. It was horrible, Kira. Worse than going with Lydia.”

“Ha!” Kira turns in Malia’s arms, triumphant grin in place. “I knew you didn’t just ‘happen to find’ that perfect outfit in 20 minutes when we went to the mall. You lying liar.”

Malia’s eyes dance with mischievousness. “Should I have waited until the 30 minute mark?”

Kira tries to give Malia her stern face, but breaks into giggles about two seconds in and ends up dropping an affectionate kiss on her nose instead.


End file.
